back on the boat

I got off the boat and noticed her impending pregnant belly poking out to me right away. In Africa, it’s okay to hold someone’s hand. Even if it’s a stranger. It’s a sign of friendship. And as someone whose love language happens to be physical touch, my love tank is regularly overflowing here in Uganda. I grabbed her hand and interlocked my finger into hers before even introducing myself. I genuinely loved her.  And she felt safe with me.

  

“I’ve been pregnant for a year,” she told me. And I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. As if her ragged clothes and calloused hands weren’t enough of a signal.

Obviously she hasn’t been pregnant for a year. But these women on the island have never really been educated in pregnancy. Their periods stop and they eventually started growing and someday they feel pain and start pushing. That’s about the most they know of the life that regularly grows inside of them.

It’s her 7^th baby and she wasn’t planning on having anymore.  She is 28.

The village had been made aware that midwives were coming to the to see them. And not just any midwives- white ones. Many of the women walked for a good part of the day just to be seen by us. We are a group of 4 and this time we have a staff person with us- a midwife from Germany that continues to teach us as we see the women. Having someone with so much experience around is so helpful. We split up on this day and two of the girls stayed to give immunizations and make the babies (and sometimes the mamas) cry while me and another went back to a mud hut to start the antenatal checks.  Immediately we had many women line up to be seen. It’s not like the hospital here on the island. Even if it’s a long line we aren’t forced to rush through each check. We can actually take the time with each woman. See her. Listen to here. Advise her. Pray with her. And check the progress of her and her unborn baby. I realize the value this gives them. I listen to their stories; some of them have never seen a doctor or a midwife and have delivered all 8 of their children on their own. It hasn’t been by choice though and it hasn’t been without complication. And now, we’re here and we get to show them attention. God, thank you for loving these women enough to send me here to see them.

I start with my new best friend, the woman who is sure she’s been “with child” for a year now. I ask her a lot of questions, many vital ones that she doesn’t know the answers to and try to explain to her how a pregnancy works. After some time, I check her stomach and measure the height of her uterus. This can give me an idea of how far along she is but it’s not always an accurate one. Without a scan it’s the only option we have here. The shape of her stomach and the feel of the baby inside her womb alludes me to believe there might just be 2 in there. I saw this so often in Tanzania that I’ve become familiar with twins. Again, no scan and no option of one, so I can’t be sure of this but I know I need to share the information with her anyways. I gently let the mom know that she still has weeks to go (in her “year long pregnancy”) and then I let her know she might just carrying more than one baby inside of her. I’m apprehensive to share this information because there’s a real possibility she will feel the need to end this pregnancy. But I’m obliged to be honest with her. She doesn’t deserve to be shocked after one baby comes out to find out there’s another still in there.  I take my chances with her and let her know of the possibility.

I see the look of fear and disappoint in her face. She’s a lovely mother and I am sure she loves her children very much but she’s not ready for baby number 7 and definitely not prepared for 7 and 8 at the same time. I feel for her. And try to encourage her that she’s blessed with so many children because God knows she’s a good mother and can handle it.

She humors me and laughs at my attempt to comfort her.  I ask her if I can have a photo with her and her beautiful stomach.

“this is not a stomach,” she tells me, “it’s a big huge balloon.”

Her African accent and the fact that she’s conversing with me in English makes me laugh.

I wish I could be there for her. Help her out. I know she’s working hard plowing the field, possibly carrying two babies inside of her, taking care of 6 other children, and still convinced that she’s been pregnant for a year. I wish I could do something more for her. God knows I’d take the pregnant on for myself if I could. Relieve her back pain and carry her twins for a few days for her? Oh yeah- I’d do it. But reality reminds me it’s not an option. So together we pray. And I leave it in Gods hands. Because that’s all I can do.

I saw many other women after her and each came with their own unique story. Some young, some old. Many pregnant for the umpteenth time and many in desperate need for some good healthcare. Malnourished, poor blood, urinary tract infections, and no idea of what’s really happening with their bodies. There are no What to Expect When Your Expecting books in this village. Pregnancy is often just a painful mystery. They need someone to invest long term in their village- to be with them, to educate them, to deliver their babies and teach them natural family planning. To show them how to plant good foods for their bodies so they can eat the right way. They need someone to empower them in their pregnancy. I wish it could be me, but right now I know my only option is to be this person for them for the day. I do what I can in the small amount of time that we’re there, knowing that it’s not enough but hopeful that it’s at least helping. I am not discrediting the work that I did while my team and I were there. I am grateful the women were seen. I am grateful they learned, even just a little and I am hopeful that they retained the information that was shared with them. I could leave the island feeling helpless, hopeless, and defeated but it’s not what I see. I know God is at work there and I know that in the midst of the great tragedy it can be, there is a solution.

I continued to be incredibly blessed by the family that lives there and is investing into the people, learning the skills necessary to help the people out. The island this week was another amazing experience.  Spending time with the family was an additional treat and overall it was a great ending to our ministry time here in Uganda.